[ They return to a Hell that has burned out completely, the pits dark and deep, the air ashen, soot covering every horizontal surface. As if from one moment to the next, the fire went out, leaving hollowed out holsters and fragile structures in its wake. Pompeii on a mythological scale.
Another thing that's waiting for him, as Lucifer puts him down, like a bride carried over the doorstep to her new home, is the door to his palace, looking pristine white and untouched, in the exact same spot where they left it, the morning before he was taken back to Earth. When he pushes it open, Terry (looking a bit thinner and a bit worse for wear) hurdles outside, moving in a huge circle around Lucifer when he sees him. He's gone in a flash, pretty much, disappearing in the slightly apprehensive crowd of demons gathering along the rock walls to watch their Queen return. There's a feeling of relief hanging in the air that makes Elio feel quite welcome, at the same time that it makes him wonder exactly how miserable Lucifer has been in his absence.
He can imagine, can't he?
He can imagine.
Then, he simply takes Lucifer's hand and drags him inside the palace, the door slamming shut behind them and no doubt, disappearing from view. It's even more effective than a do not disturb sign in a hotel. Everything, top to bottom, has been scrubbed clean, Terry has kept himself busy which just proves why he was the perfect fit for Elio, right? For a demon, he's surprisingly willing to take on very non-demonic jobs.
They have stepped right into the bedroom, as seems to be his palace's preference, like it knows that there's little to do in Hell but see to loops and see to fucking. Elio feels out of his element in his denim shorts and his peach juice spattered t-shirt as he releases Lucifer's hand and turns towards him, but he can't be bothered too much with vanity right now, not when the other man's here, finally, this huge, broad, naked figure 30 feet from the bed. They should probably shower. Elio thinks there's no time. He won't presume, but shit, there's no time.
Swallowing hard, he steps closer, closer, closer, looking up and up and up. Looking at Lucifer is like looking to the sky, really. The exact same craning of neck, the same tilt back, the same brightness. So he reaches up, runs his fingers gently, splayed out, over the side of Lucifer's Devil face, thumb tracing the sharp outline of cheekbone. ]
[ It's only when he's sat Elio down in front of the palace, when they're safely locked away behind the now-unbarred door, that he allows himself a moment of realisation. True realisation. They're in Hell, yes, but it's not just him. They are. Him and his Elio. It's a completely implausible thought, like a lie he can't stop telling himself and absurdly, a part of him keeps getting huffy about it, as if he's somehow embarrassing himself by looking at Elio and accepting what he sees.
That they're together again, that he's fine, beautiful and perfectly healthy.
The palace is back to its former glory - last he remembers, it resembled a hospital more than a home, white walls, white sheets, silence and baited breaths. He blinks a couple of times, hard, just to remind himself that he's truly here, that it isn't some elaborate fantasy he's cooked up in the midst of his loneliness. He's had many fantasies, after all, when he couldn't quite help it. When he couldn't keep them out. Hell, in turn, had given him dreams that were so painfully real and so awful to wake from (alone, always alone) that he's gone long, long periods without sleep just to keep them at bay.
But this isn't that. Surely, it isn't.
When Elio steps up to him, smelling of peaches still and fresh air, Lucifer stares at him almost desperately when he runs his fingers up the side of his face. He wants to push his face against his palm like cat. To grab his wrist and keep it there, keep them in this state where the touching is as real as it gets. ]
I'm sorry, I didn't know.
[ He tilts his head sideways. His hand opens and closes for a moment before he reaches out, curling his long, clawed fingers around the other man's waist. It's a light touch, unpresumtuous. When he speaks, his voice is almost breathy, sounding a lot more like the voice he uses in his human form. There's no demon left in his question, just something small and fragile: ]
Under the influence of that very talent, he has grown from a completely ordinary human being to the Queen of Hell himself without asking many questions at all about the how’s and why’s. He accepts a lot. He embraces a lot. He forgives a lot. However, as Lucifer tilts his head in against his palm and slips one hand, big, red, clawed, around his waist without pulling him as close as he could or ought to, really, only to ask, are you really here, it does catch Elio off guard. The frown on his face isn’t displeasure, it’s that particular kind of surprise that comes of wanting something else for someone. Something more, better, gentler. It breaks his heart, honestly, the way Lucifer has to ask. Because it’s a testament to how lonely he has been. Elio has had the world with all its joys and all its people, while the Devil hasn’t even had the knowledge that his situation was temporary, changeable, not forever.
The angel who fell from Heaven and has been punished continuously since.
It’s relatively normal to have beefs with your father-in-law, right? Because Elio thinks he might have a beef with God now.
Swallowing hard again, he shakes his head, not in the negative, it isn’t a no in any way, it means love and not fair, but what comes out of his mouth meets the other man exactly in that feeling he’s projecting with his huge limbs and his tiny voice, smaller, much smaller than when he looks human to the naked eye. Elio steps closer, closer and closer, more of less cradling Lucifer’s cheek in his hand, until slowly he runs his palm over his bald scalp, feeling out every curve of him. ]
I’m really here.
[ He could tell him things like always and I’ll never really leave you, but they’re half-truths at best and the two of them don’t lie to each other. If the Persephone theory holds up, he’ll leave. But he’ll also come back. That, Elio could say, I’ll always come back.
Instead he says, voice gentle and understanding and pained, because he was alone, too, wasn’t he - in crowds and in company, even: ]
I’m sorry you had to suffer through this on your own, Lucifer.
[ It seems to take him much too long, to respond - I'm really here - but in reality, no doubt he didn't hesitate much whatsoever, Elio wouldn't do that and this is him, it must be. The palace wouldn't -- and his touch... Eyes falling shut and breath trembling out past his lips, Lucifer finally tightens his hold around Elio's narrow waist and pulls him in, up against his naked body. It's been so long in this form, it takes him a long while to feel anything that it encounters, be it pain or burns or pleasure. All the same, when he feels Elio's body, long and slim and warm, against his own, something stirs in his belly, a spark of heat that doesn't dissipate. ]
Possibly, I should've let my brother through at least once.
[ He smiles faintly, even managing a very slight eyeroll which no doubt looks amazing in orange and black. Ugh. He casts a glance down his body, seeing the difference now between Elio's feet, fine-boned and pale, and his own, clawed and huge. Reflexively, he curls his toes, as if to hide them away. His claws scratch against the floor and that's really all he gets.
He meets Elio's eyes, warm and sweet and full of knowledge, the kind that says don't worry, I understand and me too, in a way, and Lucifer's batwings lower a little at the thought, shoulders relaxing. With a sigh, he glances towards the bathroom. They could use something a little larger than a regular bathtub, for sure.
That is, if Elio wants...
He really can't blame him if he doesn't.
Worrying his bottom lip with his teeth briefly, Lucifer finally just decides to Hell with it - hahah fuck - and says, fighting to keep his voice level and failing utterly: ]
I'll - I'll figure out a way to change back, I assure you. But right now, I, er...
[ A shuffling of Devil-feet. ]
If you'd like to shower on your own, I mean, it's all very well. I can wait for you out here. [ Paaause. ] If you like.
I don't. [ Stopping him promptly, Elio shakes his head, which definitely means no this time, and reaches down with both hands, taking Lucifer's free one in his own, before wriggling loose of the other man's hold to more or less drag him towards the bathroom, just the first five or ten steps, encouragement. Come with me, it means, I want you. ] I don't like.
[ With a long look over his shoulder, Elio, releases his hold on him, fully expecting Lucifer to know the way himself and even if he should suddenly lose courage, because a Devil is only a Devil, after all, and confidence can fail the best of them, Elio isn't far ahead. He's waiting. He'll wait. He shrugs quickly out of his own t-shirt, leaving it in a heap on the floor, off to the side. His upper body shows various tan lines, a prominent one on both his upper arms from where his t-shirts tend to cut, a slightly fainter one across his shoulders from when he's been in tank tops, and the rest of his chest showing a slight touch of color, too, because most of the time he's run around practically naked anyway.
It's not called privacy when there's no one you want to see, is it? No one to either hide from or show yourself off to.
Elio halts momentarily to work his shorts open, dropping them and kicking them off to the side as well. He's been going commando underneath, a habit he's never had before this summer, but it reminded him of Lucifer, just doing it, like a sweet, shared secret. Fully naked, he spins around on his heel and walks the rest of the way into the bathroom backwards, meeting Lucifer's gaze across the small distance between them. Elio smiles, cocks his head, you know this, he's saying wordlessly, you still got it. Meaning him, of course, Elio as well as all his honestly animalistic charms. ]
I think we should shower together. I want to have you close, Lucifer, it's been too long.
[ Once inside the bathroom, still huge and bright with plenty of room for both angel and devil wings, except on his left the room seems to have widened further, opened up a whole length, Elio halts finally, turning his head slightly to glance to that side. The palace has sunk a whole Roman bath into the floor, filling it with hot, steaming water, soap, the works. Oh. Well. Maybe a soak is more like what he had in mind, really. ]
[ Elio proceeds to tell him no, verbally and non-verbally both, dragging him a few feet towards the bathroom. Lucifer follows, small steps, too small for his overly-large frame, and then, Elio lets go of him and shrugs out of his shirt, baring planes of lovely, sun-kissed skin, criss-crossed here and there by marks from his clothing. Then, his shorts.
Beneath which he's really quite naked.
Lucifer blinks. Stares. His own cock, always on display these days because modesty just doesn't matter that much when you've lost all reason to preserve the mystery, twitches a little. It makes him feel obscene. Grimacing, he gives it a quick glare, then proceeds to follow suit, padding into the bathroom and pausing to give that new, huge Roman bath a good, long look. Shower, they said, but this says soak and proximity and slow. Lucifer's wings droop again, the line of his lips trembling slightly for a moment. He's in the wrong bloody body for this. He really, really is.
All the same, he can't let Elio drag him around down here as if he doesn't want to be close because fuck, there's nothing... he can't imagine... His eyes would be welling up if they could but over the past thousand years, he's either lost his tear-ducts or they were never there to begin with (in a place of eternal fire, there's a point to being capable of staring moodily through the rising smoke for hours on end). Consequently, he just blinks again. Looks down at himself quickly before he straightens his stance, raises his chin and nods.
Yes.
Bath.
Quietly, he steps close enough to dip his toes into the warm water. Then, for one, blinding, panicked second, he's certain that the water's going to turn black and charred-looking from all the dirt that's bound to be on his body but apparently, he's just. Well. Apparently, that's just his look now because nothing happens, aside from the water rippling around his toes.
[ Watching him, tenderly, oh, so tenderly, Elio follows Lucifer with his gaze as the other man walks over to the Roman bath and proceeds to dip his long, clawed toes in the water, a bit like a Disney princess checking the temperature before going all in, primly, of course, because it’s Disney. Besides the gesture itself, there isn’t much Disney about Lucifer, is there? He is dangerous and a little bit wild-looking and he rules Hell, lest we forget. Still, he shows that vulnerability now that Elio fell in love with originally, all the things about him that aren’t dangerous and wild and Hellish, but soft and caring. Unafraid of his own emotions. Because Lucifer is both an angel and the Devil himself. That’s his two-edged sword, right? Exhaling long and slow, Elio lets his eyes run down over the other man’s very naked backside. Firm buttocks, hint of balls, strong back, broad shoulders, recognizable features mixed with spikes and rough skin and huge wings. No feathers. Then, he moves over next to him. Stands there in silence for a moment, looking at the water rippling without a care as to their appearance, their nakedness, their obvious want for each other.
He lifts one hand and slides his fingers softly down Lucifer’s back, following the trail of spikes along his spine, but without touching them directly. He hasn’t been allowed yet and he won’t do it without permission, because this is Lucifer’s body and he needs to know he’s in control of it. That Elio trusts his ability to carry himself. That Elio respects his boundaries, even unspoken.
Beautiful Lucifer.
With a slight smile, he steps up to the edge of the pool and looks from the water to Lucifer’s face, then down to Lucifer’s foot and then, he stares ahead for a second, letting it all seep into his system. All this love he’s carried with him for months now, years. Taking a deep breath and making a noise of pure enjoyment, Elio lets himself be seventeen again and plunges into the pool, splashing water everywhere in the process. It’s warm and sticky from soap, the water. He emerges with bubbles clinging to his brow, curls, shoulders. Treading water and turning back towards the Devil on dry land, he rubs foam out if his eyes. ]
Please say you’re going to give me more than your foot.
[ Paddling back to the edge of the basin, looking straight up at Lucifer’s front, cock and all - and it’s a sight, Elio leans on the raised seat below water, knees finding his balance point after a second or two. ]
[ When Elio draws up behind him, his skin prickles in response to his proximity, to the by-now unusual sensation of having someone wanted and dear within touching distance of his body. Then, Elio actually reaches out and touches, sliding his fingers down his back gently. His fingertips feel luxuriously soft and Lucifer wants to melt into that feeling, disappear within it, even. He notices, of course, that Elio isn't actually touching the harsh, unyielding bone pieces sticking out of his spine and though most of him is grateful, a tiny part is also...
Oh.
What, he wants him to...
He takes a deep breath. Then, just as he's about to maybe slip into the water with as much dignity as a naked Devil can muster, Elio literally swan-dives in, displacing water everywhere and leaving Lucifer standing there, blinking dumbly, water dripping off his eyelids (no lashes, as it were). As the other man emerges, glittering bubbles clinging to him, Lucifer can feel a smile threatening to burst forth. He shifts from one foot to the other.
Looks down when Elio looks up from his seat by the edge of the pool, seeing the open, joyful look in his gaze and feeling it, even if just by proxy. He's contagious, his Elio, his Persephone, yes, who's happy to be here, who's here by choice. His father may have pointed him out but it doesn't mean that much. Not really.
So, Lucifer finally just folds his wings in along his back as much as he can and steps into the water, using the stairs to the left. He doesn't stop until he's all the way down, feet planted firmly on the bottom of the basin, the water's surface lapping at his shoulders and collarbone. Slowly, carefully, he spreads out his wings. ]
Ah.
[ He closes his eyes. When you've spent a thousand years feeling little but ashfall and lava burns, there's something so incredible about true, physical pleasure. He used to feel the same about visiting Earth, actually, the contrast is mind-blowing. Opening his eyes partially, he seeks out Elio over there by the edge of the pool and holds out his arms in invitation. Please, it means.
[ After a moment of almost-but-not-quite beaming at each other, in each their element still, Lucifer finally folds in his wings along his body and descends the stairs further up the pool, letting the water rise around him as he steps in, tall enough to break the surface, soap coloring the surrounding water a pale shade of white that seems to reflect the particular red nuance of his skin beautifully. Elio turns after him, watching him every step of the way, leaning with his back against the edge of the basin, head slightly cocked. When the other man unfolds his wings again, a gradual process of each joint opening up until both wings extend to either side of him, huge and dark, he effectively loses his breath.
The sound of enjoyment that erupts from the other man doesn't help either, that small show of complete immersion, true pleasure. Elio shifts, weight from one leg to the other. The muscles in his back flex as he tries to decide between holding back or pursuing. He wants to do this not at his own pace, but at Lucifer's.
In the end, Lucifer makes the decision for him and Elio simply follows suit, the Devil holding out his arms and all but begging him to come closer. The time and place isn't for holding back, anyway, nothing in the thick layer of soap or the heat of the water or Lucifer's wet nakedness says, hesitate. So Elio doesn't. He pushes off the seat below the water and half-swims, half-wades, ultimately inelegant, across the distance between them, slipping up to Lucifer's front and sliding his arms over his slippery upper arms, shoulders, locking them behind his neck, having to stand on his tip-toes like that, the water hiding most of his efforts. His tight thigh muscles, his flexing abs, though maybe Lucifer can feel it. How he's shuddering ever so slightly, his body calling out. Proximity. This is the closest they've been for six months in Elio's time, thousands of years in Lucifer's.
It's okay if they're starving. It's okay.
Elio leans his forehead against the sharp line of Lucifer's jaw, the side of his face. ]
I missed you so much.
[ It doesn't mean, don't leave me again, because at this point, Elio understands his role, what function he's fulfilling and what it will require, again and again, but it does mean, please let me enjoy you now that I have you. ]
[ Elio pushes off the seat and comes to him, the water swirling around him, small ripples growing steadfastly larger as they travel outwards and away. It's just like him, when you think about it. If Lucifer allows himself the luxury and he'll have to... get back in shape on these matters. A thousand years is a long time spent practicing the divine equivalent of staring into a dark corner whilst moping. Regardless, it's true - when he met Elio, he led a normal human life; just a regular person tumbling head-first into a murder investigation. Most normal people eventually proceed to tumble back out, too, their lives unfolding as they should, relatively unaffected. He's seen enough of that, hasn't he, decades and decades and millennia back when he worked with the NYPD. It's a fairly straightforward story. Quite certainly available in paperback, too.
Except, here's Elio. With him. Coming towards him and slinging his arms around his ugly form, his spikes and burns and red, leathery skin. He comes out of the water somewhat as he presses his naked front against Lucifer's, and the water cascades down his back and shoulders in glittering droplets, like there's light coming from within each little water particle, precious and golden and so unlike Hell as it's been since... yes. Since the barrier closed and he'd thought the other man lost for eternity.
He's brought it here, his own light. The bracelet around his slim wrist sparkles from it.
Persephone. ]
A thousand years.
[ He clears his throat but it doesn't help - there's something stuck down there, something that feels not unlike a small piece of burning ember, like he's swallowed it down by mistake or simply because his body can't quite tell the air and the fire apart any longer. He swallows heavily and tries again but it doesn't help - and when Elio leans his forehead against his jaw, he leans right back, folding two, huge hands around his narrow waist before sliding them down to his buttocks and lifting him close. ]
There aren't any words. Elio. [ Pause. Oh. It's his name and it belongs there, on his tongue, just as it is. So he gives it another go. ] Elio. [ A quick nibble of charred, thin lips against Elio's temple and then, for good measure: ] Elio.
[ The very tips of his wings, fanned out still and dripping water, slap the surface very slightly every time he says Elio's name. Splashsplashsplash.
I missed you so much that I forgot how to it means because that's the crux of it, of his Devil form that he can't escape, of the smoldering rivers eating their way through the very foundation of Hell and the ashes that won't stop burning. ]
[ They move against each other with a familiarity that has to re-establish itself, obviously, the same way that Hell will have to now, the King of Hell as well, because while Elio loves the feeling of Lucifer’s thick, vibrant skin beneath his fingertips, he knows this isn’t how the Devil really wishes to present himself. It’s because his feelings have been running amok, taken charge and as such, his kingdom has been under emotional rule for a thousand years, that’s what he says. One eighth of human’s combined history lived in uncertainty. Any place would look like Hell, literally, under such circumstances, right?
I have words, Elio mutters as thin, charred lips nibble at his temple, the closeness of him, how Elio can feel him and smell him and see him in patches of red before his eyes, sliding his flat palm along the naked skin at the back of Lucifer’s head, arms tensing as the other man lifts him up by his buttocks, his long nails biting into his flesh, making him go almost instantaneously hard for him. He breathes in deeply, folds his legs around Lucifer’s waist and keeps himself there, up, looking down at the other man’s face, beyond his face - his wings slapping against the water surface for each time he speaks his name, like a caress. Like the water’s Elio and there’s a connect that they both feel. That part, at least, needs no re-establishing. ]
Too long... [ It’s a whisper, breathless and shaky. He’s on perfect eye level with Lucifer’s brow, so he kisses it, then his eye as he blinks them closed, then his temple and his cheek. Soft kisses, but hungry, too. Desperate. ] I don’t want to wait any longer, Lucifer.
[ It starts with them, he thinks. Change.
Elio slides his lips downwards from Lucifer’s protruding cheekbone, tastes ash and water and him, so unmistakably him, even after half a year, even after a thousand years, implying that if they have to return Hell to its former state, they need to return to themselves first. To each other. It’s the right order of things, divinely given. That’s the blessing.
Besides, Elio’s greedy, he wants, he’s learned that from the Devil himself, and he shows it, finally slipping his moist lips over Lucifer’s, eyes open and looking as he licks a broad trail over his bottom one, not urging, but begging. Please. Please.
Lucifer also taught him to ask things of others, starting graciously with himself. ]
[ Elio goes hard, his cock pressing in against Lucifer's abdomen and his own cock, entirely uncaring about its own appearance or indeed, the fact that he's a bloody monster, responds in kind. Just. There. Hard. Incredibly hard. He groans despite himself, despite how he should definitely, promptly drop Elio back into the water rather than pull him closer, closer, grinding up against him, cock on cock.
All the same, that's what what he does.
He looks into Elio's eyes, feeling the lingering dampness from his lips all over his face. Brown eyes, warm and deep. Kind. Blinking as Elio licks his bottom lip, clearly begging, wanting, he finally just leans in and closes that last little bit of remaining distance, parting his scorched lips and pushing his tongue into Elio's mouth. At that sudden explosion of heat - of Elio's taste, oh, and his scent, his scent - Lucifer feels his own reservations melt until they seem as empty as Hell itself, as his throne and chasms and the screams from down below.
Oh, who really cares?
His wings push out and up, spreading out wide behind him. His cock twitches against Elio's beneath the water and he tightens his hold just a little around the other man's impeccable arse, pulling him in, grinding against him. Oh, but it's good. It's - oh. And they've been apart for so long, he'd thought they wouldn't -
But they did.
They are.
Along the arches of his red, leathery wings, the first signs of change - feathers, red still, start emerging. He isn't consciously aware of them, though he knows something is happening - for the first time in a thousand years (and maybe even longer than that, maybe it goes back so long that he can't remember what it means or how to express it), something is happening. ]
[ Lucifer evidently doesn’t want to wait any longer either, his cock responding almost on cue, growing hard against Elio’s abdomen, the long, familiar length of it. Except if’s not just familiar anymore, it’s new and exciting, feeling heavier somehow, thicker and the skin charred the same way the rest of Lucifer’s body is, the surface of it uneven and intricate and Elio gasps into the other man’s mouth, arms tightening around his shoulders, as he gives him his tongue in turn. Pushes up against him, tongue and cock, his own tongue seeking deep into the cavity of Lucifer’s mouth, his taste an explosion, an embrace, a loving caress. He’s home, Elio realizes. Earth isn’t all that anymore. Maybe it never was.
That’s the blessing.
Whimpering, he lets himself be pulled close, closer, feeling Lucifer grind up against him eagerly, feeling their lengths slide along each other, the sensitive, bared head of his cock sending sparks of pleasure through his groin as the uneven skin of Lucifer’s cock rubs over it, again, again, again. No rhythm, no steady pace, just that initial need to touch and have and be, together. The soapy water eases the motion, the slippery slide that is making them both jerk against each other, Elio groaning into the kiss, nibbling at Lucifer’s lip, bottom one again, as he withdraws, panting harshly. Oh.
Oh, he’d forgotten exactly how much he was supposed to miss this. Him, Lucifer.
There have been offers in the meantime, what he’d once have called temptations and gotten his concepts mixed up by doing so, but Elio has waited, has wanted to wait on him, not like he did with Oliver, because Oliver was never going to come. Whereas Lucifer is, Lucifer definitely is going to come. He’s here. They are. Elio stares into his face, rutting against him repeatedly, his yellow-orange eyes, licking his swollen lips and breathing loudly, heavily. ]
Can I have you?
[ His voice is airy, Elio doesn’t try to change that, remembering Lucifer in this very bathroom, touching his asshole and asking if he could have him. Repeating those words back at him now, because they like to give and take equally between them. It’s all pleasure, after all, light. ]
Inside, I mean.
[ Trusting the other man to hold him up, Elio slides his hands around to his front, up his neck, face, cupping his face from both sides and holding him like that, tenderly. It doesn’t mean please, it means if you are comfortable, I’ll take you.
[ Oh, it's good. The sense of proximity is almost impossible to fully comprehend after such a long stretch of time by himself. And mind, it's not exactly about those thousand years - those are nothing, honestly, when you're here for the actual long run - rather, it's the expectation. The knowledge that he thought was real, that he'd be alone for not just a thousand years but then, another thousand and another thousand and onwards, onwards...
Elio doesn't seem to mind his... his anything, does he. Nope. He's definitely hard against him still, even with Lucifer's creepy, red appendage getting all up in his business and when he ruts against him, again and again, he looks into Lucifer's eyes like the fire and darkness doesn't bother him at all. It makes him forget himself in lieu of other things - of things like sitting with his scarred head against Elio's shoulder, lamenting himself and the brother he'd killed; of Elio plucking out the bullets from his wings and fucking him with the northern lights burning across the sky.
Of Elio, here, in Hell, the fluorescent greens blossoming beneath his feet.
Can I have you he asks, meaning, will you take me, even like this and for just a fraction of a second, he blanks out at the thought of it, staring at the other man, holding him close by the swell of his buttocks, their cocks pressed together along with the rest of them. Panic, lust, arousal, self-disgust - he flounders between them like he's been floundering ever since he realised that Elio was meant for Hell just the same as him, if not in the same way.
Accept it.
Accept it.
Accept it.
He breathes out slowly, red eyes boring into Elio's, the other man cupping his face with both hands, his palms shielding his view of anything beyond them, beyond now and here and you. Then, gently, he spreads the other man's buttocks apart beneath the water, letting the water lap at him, taking care not to poke him with his claws. Leaning in, he kisses Elio's jawline, then the very edge of his mouth. When he speaks, his voice sounds rough and full of air: ]
[ He feels the resistance, the same way Lucifer has fought against himself since the beginning, not against Elio, never against him. Neither does he take it personally, like everything about Lucifer, it’s the angelic part of him, no doubt, his confidence or lack of it manifests in a more literal way than for humans. When he dislikes himself, it shows, it seeps into his very skin. The beautiful thing is how he lets Elio see now, and more than see, too. Touch, hold, caress. Want. Once he’s done resisting and once he’s lost his own little battle of the minds, lust winning out in the end, because besides being an angel, Lucifer’s also the Devil, just look, Elio feels how he works his buttocks apart with his hands, careful with his claws, telling him - Oh. Yes. It’ll have to be that way, this time. Lucifer comes with talons, after all, it’s an easy way to keep people at bay. People, and the more internal workings of Elio’s asshole, too. The water laps at it, eating into him and he sighs as the other mam kisses his jaw, the corner of his mouth, making him turn after him, come here.
You can puncture me with your tongue, he thinks, catching Lucifer’s mouth and drawing his tongue out with his own, pushing back against nothing, saying nothing, knowing his palace will answer for him, much more eloquently and thoroughly than he ever could. Saying the words buttplugs and silicone-based lube just isn’t as sexy as those very same things appearing out of nowhere on the edge of the bath. He’s missed having things at hand like this. On Earth, you actually have to actively get up, right? He murmurs senselessly into Lucifer’s mouth, licking into him and easing down on his own two feet simultaneously, balancing with his hands on the other man’s shoulders now, come, I want you here, slowly backing up against the bench along the side of the pool, pulling Lucifer along. The Queen of Hell, all but dragging the King by his cock, really.
Lucifer has always put him in power, it’s his thing, theirs. Shared.
Elio pulls out of the kiss after a few seconds more, panting hard, his cock aching and his asshole feeling tight and anticipatory. Waiting. He’s good at that, in a couple thousand years, he’ll be a master. Looking Lucifer’s face over, he smiles and twists enough to grab the lube off the edge, unscrewing it and smearing his whole left hand in the stuff. Off to the side, but still within reach, with the tube and dips his hand below the surface of the water, trailing his fingers up Lucifer’s thigh, feeling the pronounced muscle there, groin, pelvis - He finally closes his fingers around the base of the other man’s cock, feeling out the girth of him, enormous, Elio has big hands but almost not big enough. His next breath is a stutter, as he glances down between them, every size queen particle of his being flatlining, heart failure. His cock jumps.
[ He leans into the kiss for as long as it lasts, filling up Elio's mouth, taking up space within him again and that's a lovely feeling, yes, oh, he's missed it. Following along senselessly as Elio draws back, towards the side of the pool, he raises his wings partially out of the water, wading after him, the sound of water droplets hitting the surface loud in the stillness around them. When Elio finally breaks the kiss, he very nearly whines in protest, stopping himself only because he's somewhat concerned as to how that would sound with his current vocal chords - like a tiny demon getting stomped on, possibly. Hateful. He pushes the thought away.
Which isn't all that hard to do, seeing as Elio proceeds to properly distract him by slicking up his hand (magic lube, oh, the wonders of Hell) and going not for his own body but for Lucifer's, his fingertips trailing up his thigh and groin until -- ]
Ah!
[ He shudders, staring down at the underwater spectacle. Elio's long fingers, wrapped around the base of his red cock and they look almost small in comparison, don't they. Pale. Always pale. The sensation is a bit odd, as if certain... bits of his bits, so the speak, are more sensitive than others. Same as the rest of this body, he's all in patches and whatnot. He meets Elio's eyes, shifting a little bit closer. His cock slides between Elio's fingers slightly at the movement and oh, oh, that's... oh. ]
You, you, err... [ He wets his lips and runs one, big hand over his bald head. ] You have to be a bit... rougher.
[ His wings curve a little behind him, inwards, until he gets purchase with the clawed tips on either side of Elio's body. They rest there like fingers, long and thick, the bone glistening from water. It disturbs him, of course, having to talk about this particular body like it needs anything but it also feels... well. It's just slightly strange that he knows so little about it. Hateful or not, it's still his, isn't it? ]
[ It takes a second, no longer than that, when you’ve handled as many cocks as Elio throughout his human existence, you have tried most of them, if not all. Not all, not this, not the heavy meat currently throbbing hotly between his fingers and Elio licks his lips, staring up at Lucifer’s face, his red, charred features, inhuman eyes, but the most familiar expression as he awkwardly runs a hand over his bald head, shifting closer to Elio while doing so, wings curving around him, holding himself against the edge of the pool. Rougher, he requests and Elio breathes out, long and hard, dropping his other hand to crotch-level, too, wrapping all ten fingers around him, encircling him more easily like that. The full girth of him.
The Devil’s cock is a whole trunk now. ]
Tell me how it feels, let me hear you.
[ Leaning his forehead against Lucifer’s shoulder, staring down between them now, Elio marvels at the structure of his skin, tightening his hands around him and going for a more insistent pace, something that gives a better glide, more friction, with the unevenness of his skin, sensations might feel different for him than in his human shape. Does it all sink in evenly? Does Elio have to differentiate, the veins are so pronounced he can feel them vividly against his palms and he pushes up against the underside harder, catching them on the upstroke. There’s a sense of first to it, like he’s doing this for the very first time and knows nothing, which he doesn’t and it is, right? Idly, feeling his own cock harden almost impossibly at the slick heaviness of Lucifer’s cock between his hands, Elio wonders if the other man has ever, in his eons of existence, done this before.
Can they for once, just once, be each other’s firsts?
Without him noticing, he’s broken into a pant, working his arms to stroke the other man more firmly, roughly, less care, more pure physical contact. On the third or fourth upstroke, he’s lost count already, busy considering the logistics of Lucifer’s bigger and wider than average cock in Elio’s ass when he needs it rougher, too, though it doesn’t exactly deter him, he’s invulnerable in Hell, they’ll be fine... And he spreads out his soaked fingers, more or less dragging his palm over the bared head of Lucifer’s cock, rubbing over the slit, also more pronounced, exactly as he was asked.
[ Elio, naturally, takes his word for it and adds his other hand to the immensely absurd task of hand-sexing the Devil's cock and Lucifer, meanwhile, stares down at the other man's hands, watching them go. Water splashes around Elio's wrists and he's certainly grabbing it, isn't it, oh, oh, the slit is - ]
Oh my --
[ He breaks off before it gets ugly, chewing on his lower lip instead and watching, enraptured, as the muscles in Elio's arms flex beneath his skin, his gaze focused like he's working through some new, technical and musical piece of wonder and that's just ridiculous, it's a cock, not a bloody sonata. Regardless, Lucifer's definitely the sole recipient right now of Elio's utmost concentration and he almost can't bear it, it should make them both feel awkward but instead...
Let me hear you, says Elio.
He swallows heavily another couple of times, hips jerking forward through the water, his cock sliding slickly back and forth between the other man's fingers. Then, however reluctantly, he allows himself to glide down, to be... there, in this (in his) hopeless, monstrous body and suddenly, the pleasure seemingly triples. He gasps. Had he truly been so removed from it, from himself? But of course, the ultimate proof of that came much, much earlier - possibly when he chose to listen to Grigori's tortured gasps for hundreds of years rather than killing him, possibly when he nearly set Maze aflame for asking one, innocent question ("shouldn't we check, Lucifer, in case the barrier will let me through? I could go see to him, I could make certain --").
Lucifer grabs onto Elio's waist for dear life, his claws digging into his skin a little less than gently, but oh - oh - oh - ]
It's - when you do that to the tip, oh, it's fucking beautiful. [ He shuts his eyes and lets his hips glide forward, a more forceful motion this time, Elio's firm grip making his balls sing. ] Just - the - the whole head feels crazy like this.
[ There's a note of wonder in his voice because when he really lets himself, he can admit that the notion of newness is appealing on many levels indeed. Knowing that Elio's getting this, possibly the only first he's got left in him. That he, in turn, gets Elio for it.
Also, let's be fair, Elio probably hasn't had a huge, red Devil cock shoved up his arse, either, so that's also... that. ]
[ At first, Lucifer just watches, stares the same way as Elio does, watching his hands move, water splashing, pale on fiery red, the whole show and it’s obscene and it’s wonderful, Elio loves it, loves the feel of unfamiliarity, a little bit of danger as always with the unknown and yet, the endless security of being this close to Lucifer of all people. Lucifer who would never harm him, not willingly, not on purpose. As the other man, Devil, with his Devil cock and his Devil hands, jerks into his grip carefully, still in control and that’s okay, love, he’s got you, he’s got you, he almost makes a whole scene of calling upon his father and Elio smiles, face feeling overheated and sweaty where he’s pressing against Lucifer’s shoulder. Yes, it means, tell me.
And Lucifer tells him, physically, grabbing onto his waist, both hands, hard, not minding his claws and they dig in, leaving angry red lines across Elio’s skin, scratch marks and Elio feels his balls draw up angrily. They’ll need to move on soon or he’s going to come first, disturb the flow, they’re getting there, they’re getting somewhere good. Oh. Lucifer starts thrusting harder, actually taking for himself and it’s beautiful. Elio draws back enough to look into his face, they’re close enough like this that he can angle himself, kiss his nose lightly. His lips, a peck, chaste. While he’s giving the first handjob ever to the actual Devil in his actual Devil form.
When you do that to the tip, Lucifer says, sounding like a porn, but when doesn’t he, sex on legs, like this, always. Elio lets one hand work the shaft, more even, slower strokes and with the other, he rubs his palm gradually slower across the bared head, circular, insistent motions, but fading, they have to... Elio needs... ]
I want it to feel as amazing for you as you look to me. [ So, he slowly stops stroking him, just a gradual pause of movement, letting Lucifer get used to the absence of stimuli again. Once he releases him, it’s reluctant and Elio feels a youthful urge to suck his fingers, lick his palms. ] When you push inside me for the first time. I’ll get ready now. Watch.
[ With that, Elio turns around in Lucifer’s grip, allowing his claws to drag across his skin, the sensation making him lose his breath effectively. He leans in over the edge of the pool, lazily smearing more lube onto his hands, fingers, watching it glisten in the light from above. His ass is sticking up through the surface, just rising over it slightly, buttocks, asshole. He spreads his legs. Wide. ]
[ Of course, Elio goes straight for the gold as soon as Lucifer tells him how to locate it. He rubs his palm over the naked head of his cock and this time, Lucifer does whine a little in his throat because oh, oh, it's good, it's probably more sensitive than his normal cock and his balls actually tighten at the feel of it, oh, it's - it's -
It's gone.
Blinking stupidly, he looks down as the stroking comes to a halt, though Elio's being nice about it (of course he is, sweet Elio), slowing down, releasing him only gradually. Oh. Yes, that's right, he promised he'd... yes. Lucifer shifts from one foot to the other beneath the water - it's the sex-glitch, when you go between positions or whatever, the moment when you're just sort of waiting around for your cue. Been there a million times and then some and normally, he wouldn't feel awkward about it but... Elio turns in his grip and he gasps, no longer from pleasure, at the sight of red lines tracking across his skin. Indents. His claws!
For a second, despite Elio telling him to watch, despite the man's arse being well and truly in his face like this, he can't see anything except those red lines, angry and harsh, though not wounds as such, not as such. They could've been, though, easily. But Elio's spreading his legs wide now and the lines move with the rest of his skin, his muscles, and he's baring himself, his arsehole looking wet and smooth between his buttocks. Focus well and truly split in two, Lucifer stares for a moment longer before he simply draws closer, close enough to lean in over Elio's back. He licks a long, wet line over the damage he's done, tasting skin and water. ]
Sorry about that. [ He runs his knuckles gently over Elio's balls between his thighs, feeling how tight they are, his cock out of reach against his abdomen. ] Good thing you didn't mind too much, huh?
[ Lucifer balances himself against the pool with the clawtips on his wings and bends down and in, nudging his face between Elio's half-spread buttocks and locking his lips around the rim of his arsehole. He puts one, big hand against Elio's waist, just to keep him bend forward a little, and presses the whole width of his tongue into him, tasting him as fully as he ever will.
[ The plan was simple: positioning himself, fingering himself for a while, add a plug, add a bigger plug, go. He gets as far as the first step, and maybe he should really applaud himself for that, what with Lucifer around, sex semi-deity, right, then the other man pulls him to a forcible halt, leaning in over him to lick at the marks he’s left, his saliva making a scratch or two sting, but otherwise it’s a nice sensation and even the stinging, Elio likes. It’s care. Someone taking responsibility and apologizing, even for harm he hasn’t inflicted. Yes, it’s nice. A deep breath and Elio folds his arms on the edge of the pool, chin on top of them and he glances backwards over one shoulder, shifting from foot to foot as Lucifer rubs at his balls, making them tighten even further. Oh.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Lucifer’s wings are balancing him against the edge of the pool, these heavy draperies of darkness and shade and Elio feels so protected by them, like s shield against the world, knowing Lucifer would and already has used them as such, for him. For him. About to reply something, please leave your marks on me whenever, he doesn’t get that far, however, because Lucifer dips in between his buttocks, locking his lips over the rim of his asshole like a sneak attack and he’s so fucking lucky that Elio doesn’t surprise-ejaculate. Instead he gasps, loudly, arching his whole back like a cat, sharp, round curve and presses back against the other man’s face, mouth, tongue, penetrating him as deep as it can go. He sucks, wetly and loudly and sloppily, drool running down Elio’s crack, pooling over his balls. There’s a split second where Elio can almost see the two of them like this, the red Devil bending him over with a soft, but big hand on his waist to keep him down and Elio, taking it, taking it taking it. He’s pretty sure there are Catholic wall paintings with that motif somewhere. ]
Fuck...
[ It’s the most he can manage, the pleasure is intense and centered squarely across the sensitive nerves of his asshole, his whole body is shaking from it. Elio gives himself over willingly, like he did to Lucifer’s claws and stretches out his arms in front of himself, creating the softest curve with his entire body. Then, he moans, loudly. I’m yours, it means, have me.
I love you.
I love you.
The final one becomes I love your mouth, use it on me, muttered hoarsely, because no one believes a love declaration during sex. Not even Elio. Especially not Elio. ]
[ Elio pushes back against his face, gasping loudly and arching his back beneath Lucifer's hand. His arsehole gets steadfastly wetter while he thrusts his tongue in as deep as it'll go, the other man furnace-hot inside, his taste dark and musky. After a small fuck, he feels Elio coming to a rest against the poolside, his back relaxing into it along with his muscles. He moans loudly, giving himself over using both his body and his words and Lucifer absolutely loves the way he does that, the way he makes it feel equal parts natural and extraordinary. To have, to be had.
Beautiful Elio.
Tilting his head sideways, Lucifer gives him another couple of deep thrusts, thinking that self-actualization ought to come with a quick-fix function, like, I require a forked tongue as of right now and there, bam! He pulls back, licking over Elio's rim instead, long, heavy strokes, feeling the sensitive muscle fluttering in response. He keeps at it until he can't bear it any longer, his cock hard enough to hurt. He kisses the soft skin on Elio's left buttock, licking a small line up to his tailbone before he straightens up in the water. ]
Anyway. [ Splosh goes the water as he steps back half a step. ] Weren't you in the middle of something?
[ He makes his voice a little extra-perky. He's just licked Elio's arse in full Devil-face and it was a lovely thing indeed, undoubtedly the best thing he's ever experienced whilst being tall, dark and ugly. He licks his lips a couple of times, grabbing a handful of water and sloshing it haphazardly over the lower part of his face, into his mouth, though he isn't being very careful about it - he'd rather like Elio's taste to linger, his scent as well.
To keep him for as long as he's allowed this time around. A thousand years, if the theory holds true. Predictably, his brother finds the theory likely - Lucifer himself has very little faith left. Preciously little. Trust his Dad to play the long game, to let them dream...
He'd taken a hit last time, when he'd thought Elio'd been lost to him. Implying he'd allowed himself to get vulnerable, right? He'd let himself believe.
This time around, he thinks and watches Elio through unblinking red eyes, he'll be wiser. ]
[ Maybe, by the end of it, as Lucifer keeps thrusting his tongue inside him, opening him up the natural way, it would be okay with just a small declaration of undying devotion, right? His asshole is singing it, at least, clenching wetly around the intrusion and Elio’s breath is saying it, stumbling out of him, uneven and fast and definitely affected. His cock is weeping, where it’s breaking through the surface, just the head, little droplets of precum gathering over the slit, in the water. Elio looks down at himself, how he’s melting, lava-like, beneath Lucifer’s tongue. His mind feels hazy.
Then, Lucifer stops and he knows, he knows, it’s only fair, they have an agenda, after all, multiple bullet points, but he still whines pathetically as the other man steps back, sloshes water onto his face to get the worst ass off of it and Elio is breathing funnily, turning around enough to look at him through wide, hungry eyes, fingers clenching by his sides. Will he really get another thousand years of this and after that, an eternity in intervals? He almost doesn’t dare to believe it, but if nothing else, daring was the one thing Elio always did, regardless of everything. Anything. ]
I let myself be distracted.
[ Before meeting Lucifer, such a long, long time ago in Los Angeles, it really feels like he’s lived several lives since then, maybe Elio would have said, you’re distracting me, but there are certain things you just can’t fault the Devil for and temptation is one of them. Don’t let yourself be distracted, Elio Perlman. Sure enough, he could’ve said no, it would no doubt have been respected, but he’d have been a fool and where’s the fun in that? Elio’s asshole feels more open and receptive for it. He raises an eyebrow at the other man, his faux-perky attitude, contradicted by his hard, hard, huge cock, and turns around again, bending over and letting his still slick fingers run past his balls to his crack, up, asshole, rim slick and pliant and he unceremoniously pushes two fingers in at once, spreading them to loosen the muscle further.
Almost conversationally, he says over one shoulder, only the slightest tremor in his voice: ]
I’d sometimes pray to you while jerking off, back in Italy. Just to feel closer to you. It’s probably not the intended way, but it worked. For me.
[ Let me talk to you, next time, it means. Next time, you won’t need to keep anybody out, least of all yourself.
Push, push, push go his fingers, making him pant slightly. ]
[ The look Elio gives him as he turns around is almost enough to make Lucifer give up on all plans of fucking him with his cock, the remnants of his taste on his tongue egging him on. Take him, open him up, eat him out until he spends himself in the water, just like that, coming apart at the seams. He manages to control himself, however, because he keeps thinking about how tight Elio felt around his tongue, how tight he'll feel around his cock, oh, yes. He can bloody well wait. He stands back on his heels, his wings coming off the poolside to rest in the water beside him.
Then, he watches.
Oh. ]
It's hard for me to hear down here.
[ He tilts his head sideways. Elio's working himself open with two fingers at once and the lube is making his skin look incredibly shiny. His arsehole is expanding gradually, just opening up around the intrusion. On a long, shaky exhalation, Lucifer drifts closer again and puts one, large hand on Elio's left buttock, pulling at it a little for an even better view. ]
Something with the barrier getting in the way or distorting things - I'm not quite sure. Well, obviously, this time around I wasn't listening very carefully but regardless.
[ He shifts closer, enough for his cock to rub up against the inside of Elio's soft thigh. He stays there, getting himself just a hint of friction because judging by the size of him and the size of Elio's pretty hole, this is going to take exactly as much time as it ought.
Gaze fixed on Elio's hand, he can feel his own breathing quickening in time with his. There's something precious about it, he thinks. About catching up to him like that - imagine what he's missed out on! Elio, jerking off! Praying to him all the while! No wonder everything's wilted down here. ]
[ Elio can feel him, can feel him drifting closer behind his back, watching him pleasuring himself, opening himself up, scissoring into his ass with two fingers, then three as he adds another, the stretch making him whine softly. It’s going to get better, of course. He has a very large cock to fit inside, he feels that too, the length of Lucifer pressing against his inner thigh, rubbing himself off slowly, nothing to worry about, the Devil has self-control in bed like no other. Well, that and basically no refractory period. Should anything happen before, Elio will just get five extra minutes to prep. He smiles, looks behind him with an obvious twist of his back, listening to the familiar voice of Lucifer, burned vocal chords and all. He still sounds like home. This was home before he left and this is the home to which he returns - like his mother’s summer house, just more cock and anal play. Fewer peaches.
They had their turn with peaches once. Elio’s smile softens. ]
I’ll come more loudly. Next time, okay?
[ And he adds a fourth finger, feeling the stretch getting evident, getting biting and sharp and delicious and he pushes into himself a few times, accidentally brushing his prostate on the last one, making himself shudder, moan. His free arm lies bent against the edge of the pool and Elio turns his head away from Lucifer now to press his forehead against the crook of his arm, eyes falling shut while he works himself, another thrust, another...
Has to be enough, right? He groans, loudly, pulling his fingers from his own ass with a wet pop and with the utmost focus straightens up, starts lubing up the smaller of the two buttplugs, hands smooth, fast, piano wrists. He remembers New York, suddenly, maybe because it has been such a long time without, no Lucifer, no togetherness, shared history, past, present, future. He remembers the buttplug the other man gave him and that he blocked himself out with while he watched. First leg of the night.
With a bite of his lip, he turns around, holds it out. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Another thing that's waiting for him, as Lucifer puts him down, like a bride carried over the doorstep to her new home, is the door to his palace, looking pristine white and untouched, in the exact same spot where they left it, the morning before he was taken back to Earth. When he pushes it open, Terry (looking a bit thinner and a bit worse for wear) hurdles outside, moving in a huge circle around Lucifer when he sees him. He's gone in a flash, pretty much, disappearing in the slightly apprehensive crowd of demons gathering along the rock walls to watch their Queen return. There's a feeling of relief hanging in the air that makes Elio feel quite welcome, at the same time that it makes him wonder exactly how miserable Lucifer has been in his absence.
He can imagine, can't he?
He can imagine.
Then, he simply takes Lucifer's hand and drags him inside the palace, the door slamming shut behind them and no doubt, disappearing from view. It's even more effective than a do not disturb sign in a hotel. Everything, top to bottom, has been scrubbed clean, Terry has kept himself busy which just proves why he was the perfect fit for Elio, right? For a demon, he's surprisingly willing to take on very non-demonic jobs.
They have stepped right into the bedroom, as seems to be his palace's preference, like it knows that there's little to do in Hell but see to loops and see to fucking. Elio feels out of his element in his denim shorts and his peach juice spattered t-shirt as he releases Lucifer's hand and turns towards him, but he can't be bothered too much with vanity right now, not when the other man's here, finally, this huge, broad, naked figure 30 feet from the bed. They should probably shower. Elio thinks there's no time. He won't presume, but shit, there's no time.
Swallowing hard, he steps closer, closer, closer, looking up and up and up. Looking at Lucifer is like looking to the sky, really. The exact same craning of neck, the same tilt back, the same brightness. So he reaches up, runs his fingers gently, splayed out, over the side of Lucifer's Devil face, thumb tracing the sharp outline of cheekbone. ]
I kept praying to you.
no subject
That they're together again, that he's fine, beautiful and perfectly healthy.
The palace is back to its former glory - last he remembers, it resembled a hospital more than a home, white walls, white sheets, silence and baited breaths. He blinks a couple of times, hard, just to remind himself that he's truly here, that it isn't some elaborate fantasy he's cooked up in the midst of his loneliness. He's had many fantasies, after all, when he couldn't quite help it. When he couldn't keep them out. Hell, in turn, had given him dreams that were so painfully real and so awful to wake from (alone, always alone) that he's gone long, long periods without sleep just to keep them at bay.
But this isn't that. Surely, it isn't.
When Elio steps up to him, smelling of peaches still and fresh air, Lucifer stares at him almost desperately when he runs his fingers up the side of his face. He wants to push his face against his palm like cat. To grab his wrist and keep it there, keep them in this state where the touching is as real as it gets. ]
I'm sorry, I didn't know.
[ He tilts his head sideways. His hand opens and closes for a moment before he reaches out, curling his long, clawed fingers around the other man's waist. It's a light touch, unpresumtuous. When he speaks, his voice is almost breathy, sounding a lot more like the voice he uses in his human form. There's no demon left in his question, just something small and fragile: ]
Are you really here?
no subject
Under the influence of that very talent, he has grown from a completely ordinary human being to the Queen of Hell himself without asking many questions at all about the how’s and why’s. He accepts a lot. He embraces a lot. He forgives a lot. However, as Lucifer tilts his head in against his palm and slips one hand, big, red, clawed, around his waist without pulling him as close as he could or ought to, really, only to ask, are you really here, it does catch Elio off guard. The frown on his face isn’t displeasure, it’s that particular kind of surprise that comes of wanting something else for someone. Something more, better, gentler. It breaks his heart, honestly, the way Lucifer has to ask. Because it’s a testament to how lonely he has been. Elio has had the world with all its joys and all its people, while the Devil hasn’t even had the knowledge that his situation was temporary, changeable, not forever.
The angel who fell from Heaven and has been punished continuously since.
It’s relatively normal to have beefs with your father-in-law, right? Because Elio thinks he might have a beef with God now.
Swallowing hard again, he shakes his head, not in the negative, it isn’t a no in any way, it means love and not fair, but what comes out of his mouth meets the other man exactly in that feeling he’s projecting with his huge limbs and his tiny voice, smaller, much smaller than when he looks human to the naked eye. Elio steps closer, closer and closer, more of less cradling Lucifer’s cheek in his hand, until slowly he runs his palm over his bald scalp, feeling out every curve of him. ]
I’m really here.
[ He could tell him things like always and I’ll never really leave you, but they’re half-truths at best and the two of them don’t lie to each other. If the Persephone theory holds up, he’ll leave. But he’ll also come back. That, Elio could say, I’ll always come back.
Instead he says, voice gentle and understanding and pained, because he was alone, too, wasn’t he - in crowds and in company, even: ]
I’m sorry you had to suffer through this on your own, Lucifer.
no subject
Possibly, I should've let my brother through at least once.
[ He smiles faintly, even managing a very slight eyeroll which no doubt looks amazing in orange and black. Ugh. He casts a glance down his body, seeing the difference now between Elio's feet, fine-boned and pale, and his own, clawed and huge. Reflexively, he curls his toes, as if to hide them away. His claws scratch against the floor and that's really all he gets.
He meets Elio's eyes, warm and sweet and full of knowledge, the kind that says don't worry, I understand and me too, in a way, and Lucifer's batwings lower a little at the thought, shoulders relaxing. With a sigh, he glances towards the bathroom. They could use something a little larger than a regular bathtub, for sure.
That is, if Elio wants...
He really can't blame him if he doesn't.
Worrying his bottom lip with his teeth briefly, Lucifer finally just decides to Hell with it - hahah fuck - and says, fighting to keep his voice level and failing utterly: ]
I'll - I'll figure out a way to change back, I assure you. But right now, I, er...
[ A shuffling of Devil-feet. ]
If you'd like to shower on your own, I mean, it's all very well. I can wait for you out here. [ Paaause. ] If you like.
no subject
[ With a long look over his shoulder, Elio, releases his hold on him, fully expecting Lucifer to know the way himself and even if he should suddenly lose courage, because a Devil is only a Devil, after all, and confidence can fail the best of them, Elio isn't far ahead. He's waiting. He'll wait. He shrugs quickly out of his own t-shirt, leaving it in a heap on the floor, off to the side. His upper body shows various tan lines, a prominent one on both his upper arms from where his t-shirts tend to cut, a slightly fainter one across his shoulders from when he's been in tank tops, and the rest of his chest showing a slight touch of color, too, because most of the time he's run around practically naked anyway.
It's not called privacy when there's no one you want to see, is it? No one to either hide from or show yourself off to.
Elio halts momentarily to work his shorts open, dropping them and kicking them off to the side as well. He's been going commando underneath, a habit he's never had before this summer, but it reminded him of Lucifer, just doing it, like a sweet, shared secret. Fully naked, he spins around on his heel and walks the rest of the way into the bathroom backwards, meeting Lucifer's gaze across the small distance between them. Elio smiles, cocks his head, you know this, he's saying wordlessly, you still got it. Meaning him, of course, Elio as well as all his honestly animalistic charms. ]
I think we should shower together. I want to have you close, Lucifer, it's been too long.
[ Once inside the bathroom, still huge and bright with plenty of room for both angel and devil wings, except on his left the room seems to have widened further, opened up a whole length, Elio halts finally, turning his head slightly to glance to that side. The palace has sunk a whole Roman bath into the floor, filling it with hot, steaming water, soap, the works. Oh. Well. Maybe a soak is more like what he had in mind, really. ]
no subject
Beneath which he's really quite naked.
Lucifer blinks. Stares. His own cock, always on display these days because modesty just doesn't matter that much when you've lost all reason to preserve the mystery, twitches a little. It makes him feel obscene. Grimacing, he gives it a quick glare, then proceeds to follow suit, padding into the bathroom and pausing to give that new, huge Roman bath a good, long look. Shower, they said, but this says soak and proximity and slow. Lucifer's wings droop again, the line of his lips trembling slightly for a moment. He's in the wrong bloody body for this. He really, really is.
All the same, he can't let Elio drag him around down here as if he doesn't want to be close because fuck, there's nothing... he can't imagine... His eyes would be welling up if they could but over the past thousand years, he's either lost his tear-ducts or they were never there to begin with (in a place of eternal fire, there's a point to being capable of staring moodily through the rising smoke for hours on end). Consequently, he just blinks again. Looks down at himself quickly before he straightens his stance, raises his chin and nods.
Yes.
Bath.
Quietly, he steps close enough to dip his toes into the warm water. Then, for one, blinding, panicked second, he's certain that the water's going to turn black and charred-looking from all the dirt that's bound to be on his body but apparently, he's just. Well. Apparently, that's just his look now because nothing happens, aside from the water rippling around his toes.
He wiggles them.
Ah. ]
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He lifts one hand and slides his fingers softly down Lucifer’s back, following the trail of spikes along his spine, but without touching them directly. He hasn’t been allowed yet and he won’t do it without permission, because this is Lucifer’s body and he needs to know he’s in control of it. That Elio trusts his ability to carry himself. That Elio respects his boundaries, even unspoken.
Beautiful Lucifer.
With a slight smile, he steps up to the edge of the pool and looks from the water to Lucifer’s face, then down to Lucifer’s foot and then, he stares ahead for a second, letting it all seep into his system. All this love he’s carried with him for months now, years. Taking a deep breath and making a noise of pure enjoyment, Elio lets himself be seventeen again and plunges into the pool, splashing water everywhere in the process. It’s warm and sticky from soap, the water. He emerges with bubbles clinging to his brow, curls, shoulders. Treading water and turning back towards the Devil on dry land, he rubs foam out if his eyes. ]
Please say you’re going to give me more than your foot.
[ Paddling back to the edge of the basin, looking straight up at Lucifer’s front, cock and all - and it’s a sight, Elio leans on the raised seat below water, knees finding his balance point after a second or two. ]
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Oh.
What, he wants him to...
He takes a deep breath. Then, just as he's about to maybe slip into the water with as much dignity as a naked Devil can muster, Elio literally swan-dives in, displacing water everywhere and leaving Lucifer standing there, blinking dumbly, water dripping off his eyelids (no lashes, as it were). As the other man emerges, glittering bubbles clinging to him, Lucifer can feel a smile threatening to burst forth. He shifts from one foot to the other.
Looks down when Elio looks up from his seat by the edge of the pool, seeing the open, joyful look in his gaze and feeling it, even if just by proxy. He's contagious, his Elio, his Persephone, yes, who's happy to be here, who's here by choice. His father may have pointed him out but it doesn't mean that much. Not really.
So, Lucifer finally just folds his wings in along his back as much as he can and steps into the water, using the stairs to the left. He doesn't stop until he's all the way down, feet planted firmly on the bottom of the basin, the water's surface lapping at his shoulders and collarbone. Slowly, carefully, he spreads out his wings. ]
Ah.
[ He closes his eyes. When you've spent a thousand years feeling little but ashfall and lava burns, there's something so incredible about true, physical pleasure. He used to feel the same about visiting Earth, actually, the contrast is mind-blowing. Opening his eyes partially, he seeks out Elio over there by the edge of the pool and holds out his arms in invitation. Please, it means.
Come. ]
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The sound of enjoyment that erupts from the other man doesn't help either, that small show of complete immersion, true pleasure. Elio shifts, weight from one leg to the other. The muscles in his back flex as he tries to decide between holding back or pursuing. He wants to do this not at his own pace, but at Lucifer's.
In the end, Lucifer makes the decision for him and Elio simply follows suit, the Devil holding out his arms and all but begging him to come closer. The time and place isn't for holding back, anyway, nothing in the thick layer of soap or the heat of the water or Lucifer's wet nakedness says, hesitate. So Elio doesn't. He pushes off the seat below the water and half-swims, half-wades, ultimately inelegant, across the distance between them, slipping up to Lucifer's front and sliding his arms over his slippery upper arms, shoulders, locking them behind his neck, having to stand on his tip-toes like that, the water hiding most of his efforts. His tight thigh muscles, his flexing abs, though maybe Lucifer can feel it. How he's shuddering ever so slightly, his body calling out. Proximity. This is the closest they've been for six months in Elio's time, thousands of years in Lucifer's.
It's okay if they're starving. It's okay.
Elio leans his forehead against the sharp line of Lucifer's jaw, the side of his face. ]
I missed you so much.
[ It doesn't mean, don't leave me again, because at this point, Elio understands his role, what function he's fulfilling and what it will require, again and again, but it does mean, please let me enjoy you now that I have you. ]
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Except, here's Elio. With him. Coming towards him and slinging his arms around his ugly form, his spikes and burns and red, leathery skin. He comes out of the water somewhat as he presses his naked front against Lucifer's, and the water cascades down his back and shoulders in glittering droplets, like there's light coming from within each little water particle, precious and golden and so unlike Hell as it's been since... yes. Since the barrier closed and he'd thought the other man lost for eternity.
He's brought it here, his own light. The bracelet around his slim wrist sparkles from it.
Persephone. ]
A thousand years.
[ He clears his throat but it doesn't help - there's something stuck down there, something that feels not unlike a small piece of burning ember, like he's swallowed it down by mistake or simply because his body can't quite tell the air and the fire apart any longer. He swallows heavily and tries again but it doesn't help - and when Elio leans his forehead against his jaw, he leans right back, folding two, huge hands around his narrow waist before sliding them down to his buttocks and lifting him close. ]
There aren't any words. Elio. [ Pause. Oh. It's his name and it belongs there, on his tongue, just as it is. So he gives it another go. ] Elio. [ A quick nibble of charred, thin lips against Elio's temple and then, for good measure: ] Elio.
[ The very tips of his wings, fanned out still and dripping water, slap the surface very slightly every time he says Elio's name. Splashsplashsplash.
I missed you so much that I forgot how to it means because that's the crux of it, of his Devil form that he can't escape, of the smoldering rivers eating their way through the very foundation of Hell and the ashes that won't stop burning. ]
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I have words, Elio mutters as thin, charred lips nibble at his temple, the closeness of him, how Elio can feel him and smell him and see him in patches of red before his eyes, sliding his flat palm along the naked skin at the back of Lucifer’s head, arms tensing as the other man lifts him up by his buttocks, his long nails biting into his flesh, making him go almost instantaneously hard for him. He breathes in deeply, folds his legs around Lucifer’s waist and keeps himself there, up, looking down at the other man’s face, beyond his face - his wings slapping against the water surface for each time he speaks his name, like a caress. Like the water’s Elio and there’s a connect that they both feel. That part, at least, needs no re-establishing. ]
Too long... [ It’s a whisper, breathless and shaky. He’s on perfect eye level with Lucifer’s brow, so he kisses it, then his eye as he blinks them closed, then his temple and his cheek. Soft kisses, but hungry, too. Desperate. ] I don’t want to wait any longer, Lucifer.
[ It starts with them, he thinks. Change.
Elio slides his lips downwards from Lucifer’s protruding cheekbone, tastes ash and water and him, so unmistakably him, even after half a year, even after a thousand years, implying that if they have to return Hell to its former state, they need to return to themselves first. To each other. It’s the right order of things, divinely given. That’s the blessing.
Besides, Elio’s greedy, he wants, he’s learned that from the Devil himself, and he shows it, finally slipping his moist lips over Lucifer’s, eyes open and looking as he licks a broad trail over his bottom one, not urging, but begging. Please. Please.
Lucifer also taught him to ask things of others, starting graciously with himself. ]
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All the same, that's what what he does.
He looks into Elio's eyes, feeling the lingering dampness from his lips all over his face. Brown eyes, warm and deep. Kind. Blinking as Elio licks his bottom lip, clearly begging, wanting, he finally just leans in and closes that last little bit of remaining distance, parting his scorched lips and pushing his tongue into Elio's mouth. At that sudden explosion of heat - of Elio's taste, oh, and his scent, his scent - Lucifer feels his own reservations melt until they seem as empty as Hell itself, as his throne and chasms and the screams from down below.
Oh, who really cares?
His wings push out and up, spreading out wide behind him. His cock twitches against Elio's beneath the water and he tightens his hold just a little around the other man's impeccable arse, pulling him in, grinding against him. Oh, but it's good. It's - oh. And they've been apart for so long, he'd thought they wouldn't -
But they did.
They are.
Along the arches of his red, leathery wings, the first signs of change - feathers, red still, start emerging. He isn't consciously aware of them, though he knows something is happening - for the first time in a thousand years (and maybe even longer than that, maybe it goes back so long that he can't remember what it means or how to express it), something is happening. ]
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That’s the blessing.
Whimpering, he lets himself be pulled close, closer, feeling Lucifer grind up against him eagerly, feeling their lengths slide along each other, the sensitive, bared head of his cock sending sparks of pleasure through his groin as the uneven skin of Lucifer’s cock rubs over it, again, again, again. No rhythm, no steady pace, just that initial need to touch and have and be, together. The soapy water eases the motion, the slippery slide that is making them both jerk against each other, Elio groaning into the kiss, nibbling at Lucifer’s lip, bottom one again, as he withdraws, panting harshly. Oh.
Oh, he’d forgotten exactly how much he was supposed to miss this. Him, Lucifer.
There have been offers in the meantime, what he’d once have called temptations and gotten his concepts mixed up by doing so, but Elio has waited, has wanted to wait on him, not like he did with Oliver, because Oliver was never going to come. Whereas Lucifer is, Lucifer definitely is going to come. He’s here. They are. Elio stares into his face, rutting against him repeatedly, his yellow-orange eyes, licking his swollen lips and breathing loudly, heavily. ]
Can I have you?
[ His voice is airy, Elio doesn’t try to change that, remembering Lucifer in this very bathroom, touching his asshole and asking if he could have him. Repeating those words back at him now, because they like to give and take equally between them. It’s all pleasure, after all, light. ]
Inside, I mean.
[ Trusting the other man to hold him up, Elio slides his hands around to his front, up his neck, face, cupping his face from both sides and holding him like that, tenderly. It doesn’t mean please, it means if you are comfortable, I’ll take you.
If Lucifer’s comfortable, Elio will be, too. ]
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Elio doesn't seem to mind his... his anything, does he. Nope. He's definitely hard against him still, even with Lucifer's creepy, red appendage getting all up in his business and when he ruts against him, again and again, he looks into Lucifer's eyes like the fire and darkness doesn't bother him at all. It makes him forget himself in lieu of other things - of things like sitting with his scarred head against Elio's shoulder, lamenting himself and the brother he'd killed; of Elio plucking out the bullets from his wings and fucking him with the northern lights burning across the sky.
Of Elio, here, in Hell, the fluorescent greens blossoming beneath his feet.
Can I have you he asks, meaning, will you take me, even like this and for just a fraction of a second, he blanks out at the thought of it, staring at the other man, holding him close by the swell of his buttocks, their cocks pressed together along with the rest of them. Panic, lust, arousal, self-disgust - he flounders between them like he's been floundering ever since he realised that Elio was meant for Hell just the same as him, if not in the same way.
Accept it.
Accept it.
Accept it.
He breathes out slowly, red eyes boring into Elio's, the other man cupping his face with both hands, his palms shielding his view of anything beyond them, beyond now and here and you. Then, gently, he spreads the other man's buttocks apart beneath the water, letting the water lap at him, taking care not to poke him with his claws. Leaning in, he kisses Elio's jawline, then the very edge of his mouth. When he speaks, his voice sounds rough and full of air: ]
Get yourself ready.
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You can puncture me with your tongue, he thinks, catching Lucifer’s mouth and drawing his tongue out with his own, pushing back against nothing, saying nothing, knowing his palace will answer for him, much more eloquently and thoroughly than he ever could. Saying the words buttplugs and silicone-based lube just isn’t as sexy as those very same things appearing out of nowhere on the edge of the bath. He’s missed having things at hand like this. On Earth, you actually have to actively get up, right? He murmurs senselessly into Lucifer’s mouth, licking into him and easing down on his own two feet simultaneously, balancing with his hands on the other man’s shoulders now, come, I want you here, slowly backing up against the bench along the side of the pool, pulling Lucifer along. The Queen of Hell, all but dragging the King by his cock, really.
Lucifer has always put him in power, it’s his thing, theirs. Shared.
Elio pulls out of the kiss after a few seconds more, panting hard, his cock aching and his asshole feeling tight and anticipatory. Waiting. He’s good at that, in a couple thousand years, he’ll be a master. Looking Lucifer’s face over, he smiles and twists enough to grab the lube off the edge, unscrewing it and smearing his whole left hand in the stuff. Off to the side, but still within reach, with the tube and dips his hand below the surface of the water, trailing his fingers up Lucifer’s thigh, feeling the pronounced muscle there, groin, pelvis - He finally closes his fingers around the base of the other man’s cock, feeling out the girth of him, enormous, Elio has big hands but almost not big enough. His next breath is a stutter, as he glances down between them, every size queen particle of his being flatlining, heart failure. His cock jumps.
Slowly, he looks back up. ]
Us both. I’ll get us both ready.
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Which isn't all that hard to do, seeing as Elio proceeds to properly distract him by slicking up his hand (magic lube, oh, the wonders of Hell) and going not for his own body but for Lucifer's, his fingertips trailing up his thigh and groin until -- ]
Ah!
[ He shudders, staring down at the underwater spectacle. Elio's long fingers, wrapped around the base of his red cock and they look almost small in comparison, don't they. Pale. Always pale. The sensation is a bit odd, as if certain... bits of his bits, so the speak, are more sensitive than others. Same as the rest of this body, he's all in patches and whatnot. He meets Elio's eyes, shifting a little bit closer. His cock slides between Elio's fingers slightly at the movement and oh, oh, that's... oh. ]
You, you, err... [ He wets his lips and runs one, big hand over his bald head. ] You have to be a bit... rougher.
[ His wings curve a little behind him, inwards, until he gets purchase with the clawed tips on either side of Elio's body. They rest there like fingers, long and thick, the bone glistening from water. It disturbs him, of course, having to talk about this particular body like it needs anything but it also feels... well. It's just slightly strange that he knows so little about it. Hateful or not, it's still his, isn't it? ]
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The Devil’s cock is a whole trunk now. ]
Tell me how it feels, let me hear you.
[ Leaning his forehead against Lucifer’s shoulder, staring down between them now, Elio marvels at the structure of his skin, tightening his hands around him and going for a more insistent pace, something that gives a better glide, more friction, with the unevenness of his skin, sensations might feel different for him than in his human shape. Does it all sink in evenly? Does Elio have to differentiate, the veins are so pronounced he can feel them vividly against his palms and he pushes up against the underside harder, catching them on the upstroke. There’s a sense of first to it, like he’s doing this for the very first time and knows nothing, which he doesn’t and it is, right? Idly, feeling his own cock harden almost impossibly at the slick heaviness of Lucifer’s cock between his hands, Elio wonders if the other man has ever, in his eons of existence, done this before.
Can they for once, just once, be each other’s firsts?
Without him noticing, he’s broken into a pant, working his arms to stroke the other man more firmly, roughly, less care, more pure physical contact. On the third or fourth upstroke, he’s lost count already, busy considering the logistics of Lucifer’s bigger and wider than average cock in Elio’s ass when he needs it rougher, too, though it doesn’t exactly deter him, he’s invulnerable in Hell, they’ll be fine... And he spreads out his soaked fingers, more or less dragging his palm over the bared head of Lucifer’s cock, rubbing over the slit, also more pronounced, exactly as he was asked.
Roughly. ]
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Oh my --
[ He breaks off before it gets ugly, chewing on his lower lip instead and watching, enraptured, as the muscles in Elio's arms flex beneath his skin, his gaze focused like he's working through some new, technical and musical piece of wonder and that's just ridiculous, it's a cock, not a bloody sonata. Regardless, Lucifer's definitely the sole recipient right now of Elio's utmost concentration and he almost can't bear it, it should make them both feel awkward but instead...
Let me hear you, says Elio.
He swallows heavily another couple of times, hips jerking forward through the water, his cock sliding slickly back and forth between the other man's fingers. Then, however reluctantly, he allows himself to glide down, to be... there, in this (in his) hopeless, monstrous body and suddenly, the pleasure seemingly triples. He gasps. Had he truly been so removed from it, from himself? But of course, the ultimate proof of that came much, much earlier - possibly when he chose to listen to Grigori's tortured gasps for hundreds of years rather than killing him, possibly when he nearly set Maze aflame for asking one, innocent question ("shouldn't we check, Lucifer, in case the barrier will let me through? I could go see to him, I could make certain --").
Lucifer grabs onto Elio's waist for dear life, his claws digging into his skin a little less than gently, but oh - oh - oh - ]
It's - when you do that to the tip, oh, it's fucking beautiful. [ He shuts his eyes and lets his hips glide forward, a more forceful motion this time, Elio's firm grip making his balls sing. ] Just - the - the whole head feels crazy like this.
[ There's a note of wonder in his voice because when he really lets himself, he can admit that the notion of newness is appealing on many levels indeed. Knowing that Elio's getting this, possibly the only first he's got left in him. That he, in turn, gets Elio for it.
Also, let's be fair, Elio probably hasn't had a huge, red Devil cock shoved up his arse, either, so that's also... that. ]
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And Lucifer tells him, physically, grabbing onto his waist, both hands, hard, not minding his claws and they dig in, leaving angry red lines across Elio’s skin, scratch marks and Elio feels his balls draw up angrily. They’ll need to move on soon or he’s going to come first, disturb the flow, they’re getting there, they’re getting somewhere good. Oh. Lucifer starts thrusting harder, actually taking for himself and it’s beautiful. Elio draws back enough to look into his face, they’re close enough like this that he can angle himself, kiss his nose lightly. His lips, a peck, chaste. While he’s giving the first handjob ever to the actual Devil in his actual Devil form.
When you do that to the tip, Lucifer says, sounding like a porn, but when doesn’t he, sex on legs, like this, always. Elio lets one hand work the shaft, more even, slower strokes and with the other, he rubs his palm gradually slower across the bared head, circular, insistent motions, but fading, they have to... Elio needs... ]
I want it to feel as amazing for you as you look to me. [ So, he slowly stops stroking him, just a gradual pause of movement, letting Lucifer get used to the absence of stimuli again. Once he releases him, it’s reluctant and Elio feels a youthful urge to suck his fingers, lick his palms. ] When you push inside me for the first time. I’ll get ready now. Watch.
[ With that, Elio turns around in Lucifer’s grip, allowing his claws to drag across his skin, the sensation making him lose his breath effectively. He leans in over the edge of the pool, lazily smearing more lube onto his hands, fingers, watching it glisten in the light from above. His ass is sticking up through the surface, just rising over it slightly, buttocks, asshole. He spreads his legs. Wide. ]
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It's gone.
Blinking stupidly, he looks down as the stroking comes to a halt, though Elio's being nice about it (of course he is, sweet Elio), slowing down, releasing him only gradually. Oh. Yes, that's right, he promised he'd... yes. Lucifer shifts from one foot to the other beneath the water - it's the sex-glitch, when you go between positions or whatever, the moment when you're just sort of waiting around for your cue. Been there a million times and then some and normally, he wouldn't feel awkward about it but... Elio turns in his grip and he gasps, no longer from pleasure, at the sight of red lines tracking across his skin. Indents. His claws!
For a second, despite Elio telling him to watch, despite the man's arse being well and truly in his face like this, he can't see anything except those red lines, angry and harsh, though not wounds as such, not as such. They could've been, though, easily. But Elio's spreading his legs wide now and the lines move with the rest of his skin, his muscles, and he's baring himself, his arsehole looking wet and smooth between his buttocks. Focus well and truly split in two, Lucifer stares for a moment longer before he simply draws closer, close enough to lean in over Elio's back. He licks a long, wet line over the damage he's done, tasting skin and water. ]
Sorry about that. [ He runs his knuckles gently over Elio's balls between his thighs, feeling how tight they are, his cock out of reach against his abdomen. ] Good thing you didn't mind too much, huh?
[ Lucifer balances himself against the pool with the clawtips on his wings and bends down and in, nudging his face between Elio's half-spread buttocks and locking his lips around the rim of his arsehole. He puts one, big hand against Elio's waist, just to keep him bend forward a little, and presses the whole width of his tongue into him, tasting him as fully as he ever will.
Groaning loudly, he gives him a wet suck. ]
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Breathe in, breathe out.
Lucifer’s wings are balancing him against the edge of the pool, these heavy draperies of darkness and shade and Elio feels so protected by them, like s shield against the world, knowing Lucifer would and already has used them as such, for him. For him. About to reply something, please leave your marks on me whenever, he doesn’t get that far, however, because Lucifer dips in between his buttocks, locking his lips over the rim of his asshole like a sneak attack and he’s so fucking lucky that Elio doesn’t surprise-ejaculate. Instead he gasps, loudly, arching his whole back like a cat, sharp, round curve and presses back against the other man’s face, mouth, tongue, penetrating him as deep as it can go. He sucks, wetly and loudly and sloppily, drool running down Elio’s crack, pooling over his balls. There’s a split second where Elio can almost see the two of them like this, the red Devil bending him over with a soft, but big hand on his waist to keep him down and Elio, taking it, taking it taking it. He’s pretty sure there are Catholic wall paintings with that motif somewhere. ]
Fuck...
[ It’s the most he can manage, the pleasure is intense and centered squarely across the sensitive nerves of his asshole, his whole body is shaking from it. Elio gives himself over willingly, like he did to Lucifer’s claws and stretches out his arms in front of himself, creating the softest curve with his entire body. Then, he moans, loudly. I’m yours, it means, have me.
I love you.
I love you.
The final one becomes I love your mouth, use it on me, muttered hoarsely, because no one believes a love declaration during sex. Not even Elio. Especially not Elio. ]
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Beautiful Elio.
Tilting his head sideways, Lucifer gives him another couple of deep thrusts, thinking that self-actualization ought to come with a quick-fix function, like, I require a forked tongue as of right now and there, bam! He pulls back, licking over Elio's rim instead, long, heavy strokes, feeling the sensitive muscle fluttering in response. He keeps at it until he can't bear it any longer, his cock hard enough to hurt. He kisses the soft skin on Elio's left buttock, licking a small line up to his tailbone before he straightens up in the water. ]
Anyway. [ Splosh goes the water as he steps back half a step. ] Weren't you in the middle of something?
[ He makes his voice a little extra-perky. He's just licked Elio's arse in full Devil-face and it was a lovely thing indeed, undoubtedly the best thing he's ever experienced whilst being tall, dark and ugly. He licks his lips a couple of times, grabbing a handful of water and sloshing it haphazardly over the lower part of his face, into his mouth, though he isn't being very careful about it - he'd rather like Elio's taste to linger, his scent as well.
To keep him for as long as he's allowed this time around. A thousand years, if the theory holds true. Predictably, his brother finds the theory likely - Lucifer himself has very little faith left. Preciously little. Trust his Dad to play the long game, to let them dream...
He'd taken a hit last time, when he'd thought Elio'd been lost to him. Implying he'd allowed himself to get vulnerable, right? He'd let himself believe.
This time around, he thinks and watches Elio through unblinking red eyes, he'll be wiser. ]
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Then, Lucifer stops and he knows, he knows, it’s only fair, they have an agenda, after all, multiple bullet points, but he still whines pathetically as the other man steps back, sloshes water onto his face to get the worst ass off of it and Elio is breathing funnily, turning around enough to look at him through wide, hungry eyes, fingers clenching by his sides. Will he really get another thousand years of this and after that, an eternity in intervals? He almost doesn’t dare to believe it, but if nothing else, daring was the one thing Elio always did, regardless of everything. Anything. ]
I let myself be distracted.
[ Before meeting Lucifer, such a long, long time ago in Los Angeles, it really feels like he’s lived several lives since then, maybe Elio would have said, you’re distracting me, but there are certain things you just can’t fault the Devil for and temptation is one of them. Don’t let yourself be distracted, Elio Perlman. Sure enough, he could’ve said no, it would no doubt have been respected, but he’d have been a fool and where’s the fun in that? Elio’s asshole feels more open and receptive for it. He raises an eyebrow at the other man, his faux-perky attitude, contradicted by his hard, hard, huge cock, and turns around again, bending over and letting his still slick fingers run past his balls to his crack, up, asshole, rim slick and pliant and he unceremoniously pushes two fingers in at once, spreading them to loosen the muscle further.
Almost conversationally, he says over one shoulder, only the slightest tremor in his voice: ]
I’d sometimes pray to you while jerking off, back in Italy. Just to feel closer to you. It’s probably not the intended way, but it worked. For me.
[ Let me talk to you, next time, it means. Next time, you won’t need to keep anybody out, least of all yourself.
Push, push, push go his fingers, making him pant slightly. ]
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Then, he watches.
Oh. ]
It's hard for me to hear down here.
[ He tilts his head sideways. Elio's working himself open with two fingers at once and the lube is making his skin look incredibly shiny. His arsehole is expanding gradually, just opening up around the intrusion. On a long, shaky exhalation, Lucifer drifts closer again and puts one, large hand on Elio's left buttock, pulling at it a little for an even better view. ]
Something with the barrier getting in the way or distorting things - I'm not quite sure. Well, obviously, this time around I wasn't listening very carefully but regardless.
[ He shifts closer, enough for his cock to rub up against the inside of Elio's soft thigh. He stays there, getting himself just a hint of friction because judging by the size of him and the size of Elio's pretty hole, this is going to take exactly as much time as it ought.
Gaze fixed on Elio's hand, he can feel his own breathing quickening in time with his. There's something precious about it, he thinks. About catching up to him like that - imagine what he's missed out on! Elio, jerking off! Praying to him all the while! No wonder everything's wilted down here. ]
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They had their turn with peaches once. Elio’s smile softens. ]
I’ll come more loudly. Next time, okay?
[ And he adds a fourth finger, feeling the stretch getting evident, getting biting and sharp and delicious and he pushes into himself a few times, accidentally brushing his prostate on the last one, making himself shudder, moan. His free arm lies bent against the edge of the pool and Elio turns his head away from Lucifer now to press his forehead against the crook of his arm, eyes falling shut while he works himself, another thrust, another...
Has to be enough, right? He groans, loudly, pulling his fingers from his own ass with a wet pop and with the utmost focus straightens up, starts lubing up the smaller of the two buttplugs, hands smooth, fast, piano wrists. He remembers New York, suddenly, maybe because it has been such a long time without, no Lucifer, no togetherness, shared history, past, present, future. He remembers the buttplug the other man gave him and that he blocked himself out with while he watched. First leg of the night.
With a bite of his lip, he turns around, holds it out. ]
Help me put it in?
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